


Dads to Be

by Unforth



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2017 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Dean, Come Inflation, Consentacles, Grace Kink, M/M, Mpreg, Oviposition, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Sex Toys, Supernatural Kink Bingo 2017, Tentacles, Top Castiel, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 11:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11713875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: After a lot of discussion, Dean and Castiel have decided they're ready to be dads.Written for SPN Kink Bingo 2017, square: Oviposition





	Dads to Be

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Sorry it's been a little quiet around these parts, I've been in full-on "write DCBB or die" mode because we were required to hit 80% of our estimated word count by check ins on August 3rd, and, as you can guess if you've ever met me, mine is very long and so that was a slog. But the goal is hit and I need a bit of a brain reset so here, have some Kink.
> 
> This story was written for SPN Kink Bingo. You can read more about the challenge [here](http://spnkinkbingo.tumblr.com/about).
> 
> All Kink Bingo entries are cross posted to Tumblr. Feel free to follow me at [unforth-ninawaters](unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com).

“Dean, are you sure?” Castiel’s concern was obvious, endearing, and mind-numbingly overblown. They’d talked this to death. Dean nodded and pivoted back, lifting his bared hips in invitation. A _tch_ , meaningless to Dean since he couldn’t see Castiel’s face, was the only reply Dean received. No touch came, no penetration, no pleasure. Dean bit an angry exclamation into the blankets.

“Words,” Castiel implored.

“Words,” Dean echoed mockingly.

“Dean…”

“How many more fuckin’ ways can I say _yes_ , Cas?” snapped Dean. The longer he waited, naked, lubricated, spread, the more exposed, vulnerable, and abandoned he felt. His emotional response was ridiculous, but knowing that objectively didn’t prevent him feeling the emotions. The urge to crawl onto the motel bed and wrap himself protectively in scratchy polyester was powerful.

_…Cas would say if I’m feeling so emotionally compromised maybe I’m not so sure after all…_

_…Cas has read way too fucking many “how to communicate better” books…_

_…he wouldn’t have to read the books if I’d take the far simpler course of simply telling him how the fuck I feel…_

“I want this,” Dean breathed. “I’m ready.”

Cas groaned and enfolded him, wings brushing over Dean’s sides, hips pressing against Dean’s. They’d been prepping Dean for this for weeks, keeping him lubricated with artificial slick and Cas’ grace, improving his ability to take larger and larger toys and hold them within himself. His insides felt stretched, twitching with long-denied need, and he moaned with relief as Cas slid first one of his cocks, then a second, then a third, into Dean’s body. Feathers brushed over his skin, sparking pleasure like electricity through him, and Dean went limp against the bed. An invisible grip spread his legs farther apart, hitching up Dean knees, and pressure and bliss increased exponentially as Cas continue to spread him wider and wider.

_I am an empty vessel._

_I am here for Cas to fill._

There was no describing Cas’ cocks. Constructed of grace, a part of his true form, they were numerous, uncountable, prehensile, thick and thin and long and short. Depending on Dean’s mood, Cas could satisfy him with a single stubby dick like a plug or delve into him more deeply than should be either possible or pleasurable. While Dean had his preferences, _everything_ felt good, always, impossibly good, amazingly good, and now was no different. Dean lost count at seven tentacle-like appendages within him, more wiggling and straining at his rim. One latched like a suction cup onto his prostate, massaging and milking him. More pushed into his body, deeper, deeper still, heating him from within, impossibly bright and warm. It might have been a dozen dicks, or it might have been only one, bulging and attenuating. Twinges of pain shivered outwards and Dean writhed against Cas’ hold on him. The tentacle went still.

“Sorry,” Cas murmured. “Sorry – I’ll…”

A cock slid into him and spurted thick, sticky liquid. Another pumped him, thrusts gentle yet firm, pushing the angelic lubricant deep, spreading it over his insides. Numbness, strangely blissful, dissipated outward. Dean could feel Cas within him, feel the pinions pinning his arms and shoulders, feel Cas’ breath hot and humid on his shoulder, but the pain faded and the sense that he was over-full disappeared.

Dean could do this.

He was _fine_.

Awareness floating on a sea of pleasure, Dean let go of conscious thought as Cas started to rock against him. There was no need for Cas to thrust his hips, since his genitalia was ethereal, existing more as wavelengths of celestial intent than as physical, biological organs, but Dean loved feeling pressed against, pressed into, and Cas humored him. Something shifted in Dean’s belly, hot and heavy, and he moaned encouragement but couldn’t find the strength to push back into Cas’ thrusts.

“Going to…going to take such good care of you,” Cas gasped, fingers curling around Dean’s shoulders. “Thought about this…forever…never thought I’d find anyone…angels don’t…has to be a…a human…”

“Nephilim,” Dean grunted.

“Yes! Oh…” With a moan, Cas thrust harder, more and more of him forcing into Dean’s body. Grace and angel lube squirted, distended him, stretched him, bloated him, filled him to bursting. No pain came, though, nor did any harm befell his body. Weeks of grace treatment had prepared him to accommodate this. Dean had worried it would hurt, worried it would feel weird, worried he’d not like how he felt.

He felt _glorious_.

And he _loved_ it.

“Don’t stop,” groaned Dean. Cas made a hitched, desperate noise and something punched at Dean’s benumbed belly, did so again, again, all the cocks within him straining toward that spot. With a detached sense of wonder, Dean felt his organs shifting, spreading apart, making room where there’d been no room before.

_This should be impossible. How…?_

_Yeah, I’m getting pummeled by a dozen insivible angel tentacle dicks and I’m worried that he can rearrange my internal organs?_

_Priorities, Dean._

The first bulge of something thicker pushed against Dean’s rim, the cock focused on his prostate sucked hard, the liquid suffusing his channel gushed into the space somehow opened in his belly, and with a long, helpless moan Dean came. Ecstasy beat at him, drawn out by Cas milking him. Writhing against the blankets for stimulation, Dean rode the cocks within him, rode the waves of bliss, one long orgasm that seemed unending.

Cas groaned deep and guttural; it might have been Dean’s name, or a plea to God, or dirty talk, or who knew what. His voice vibrated up Dean’s spine, down his legs, reverberated through the liquid filling his guts. An enormous weight pushed against his stretched hole, wiggling and squirming, trying to press into his over-full ass. Cocks withdrew from him until only three remained – the one milking his prostate and drawing out his orgasm, the one pumping him full of angel juice, and the one that had squeezed so deeply into his body that it felt a part of him. The others caught at his rim, tugged him wide, pulled and pulled his relaxed, numbed hole in an effort to make room. An eternity passed, punctuated by the sounds of Dean’s pleasure and Cas’ strain, and then with a wet _pop_ the weight passed into his body.

“Dean…” Cas cried, sounding pained, sounding enraptured.

“ ‘m fine,” Dean mumbled. “Don’t stop…don’t stop…”

Groan after groan ripped from Cas’ throat as the mass pushed deeper and deeper into Dean’s body, accommodated by the trail blazed by the cock thick in his belly. Tears splashed onto Dean’s back, feathers rippled over his side, and Cas sounded as lost as Dean felt, subsumed by the miraculous act they were joined in. Dean could swear he was aglow from the inside, the inside of his eyelids painted incandescent by angelic grace and euphoria.

With another _pop_ that Dean more felt than heard, the weight settled in his belly. Cas howled through a frantic climax, cocks scrambling to get within Dean, coating his hole and skin with liquidy come, and Cas collapsed atop him, gasping and weakly grasping at his skin.

“You ‘kay, Cas?” The name slurred and Dean giggled. “Cas…”

“So good,” Cas managed, curling wings protectively around them both. “So, so…love you so much, oh, Dean…”

“Caaaaaassssssssssss…”

Minutes or hours or eons passed before they calmed enough to move. Cas curled onto his side and drew Dean with him, tugging them both up the bed so they could lie more comfortably. All but one of Cas’ invisible withdrew from his body, the one remaining continuing to pump unknown liquid into him. Glancing down, the bulge at his belly was obvious, the skin distended into a near-perfect globe around…

_…around the egg! Oh my God, this is real – this is really happening! There’s an egg in me, a…a zygote, right? And it’s going to grow and become a baby…our baby…_

Dean slid a hand down to cup the weight of it; he’d expected y to be soft, to jiggle, but it was firm, a part of him now, a part of both him and Cas lodged in his guts to grow. One of Cas’ wings folded protectively over him, one of Cas’ hands wrapped around his, and Cas massaged the bulge, shivering pleasure through Dean. No come or sweat dampened the blankets where Dean had lost himself in ecstasy; the sweat, Cas had dried magically, and the come, Cas had used grace to absorb and channel back into Dean’s body. Cas provided the egg for the Nephilim, but Dean’s humanity, his sperm, his supposedly righteous soul, provided the spark of life.

Only an angel and human together could produce a child this way.

“We’re gonna be dads, Cas,” Dean murmured, contentment sinking into him bone-deep.

“That’s…that’s what you wanted, right?” asked Cas, somehow _still_ nervous.

“God, yes.”

“Please don’t invoke my father at such a moment, it’s…awkward…”

“Hey, ol’ Chuck’s gonna be a granddad,” Dean chuckled. Cas batted at him playfully, grumbling under his breath. The cock in Dean surged and spurted so hard that Dean could feel the currents shifting beneath his skin, giving lie to Cas’ reticence. Dean moaned as a pseudo-climax trickled through him, teasing another orgasm that he craved but couldn’t sustain so soon. “So, right…this thing’s gotta eat, right?”

“We discussed this, Dean – your body can be modified to accommodate the embryonic egg but does not produce the sustenance it requires,” Cas slid easily into ‘professor’ mode, the lecture ridiculous by his voice made raspy by moans and gasps. “My grace can produce the required nutrition but only if—”

“You fuck me daily?”

“Crude – and twice or three times would be better,” said Cas, smile obvious were it curled against the skin of Dean’s shoulder. “Excited?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Dean admitted, smiling.

Cas’ fingers kneaded at Dean’s belly…his _pregnant_ belly…and he sighed happily.

_So good._

“Only you, Cas…need you…”

“I know. And I will always be here.”

To the feel of Castiel filling him and massaging his belly, Dean drifted off into blissful, sated sleep.

_Dads…_

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, guys, as an end note...of late there's been a big trend of people in comments asking me to continue my ficlets or expand them into 'verses. Getting inundated with comments like that has been causing me a LOT of stress, has led to me not wanting to write short stories, and has also resulted in me not checking my comments and falling way behind in replying because every time I see it, it _hurts_.
> 
> I appreciate the compliment paid when someone says, "you wrote this short thing and it's great and I want more!" That's a kind sentiment, but please consider the implications. I have written about a hundred shorts and many longer stories, several of which are popular and still works in progress. When one person says, "please expand this story!" it's pleasant but when ten people say it on every story, AND I'm getting asked to continue my works in progress, AND I'm getting asked for time stamps and sequels, it goes from seeming like a compliment and being nice to being utterly overwhelming. Please remember that I see your single comment in the context of everyone else's, not in a void where no one else has ever asked me for a sequel.
> 
> I work a full time job.
> 
> I have written an average of 2500 words per day since January 1st, and have also edited an average of 9 pages per day since January 1st.
> 
> During the day I watch my 17 month old son for up to ten hours while my wife is at work, with my own full time job jigsawed around that.
> 
> I am currently 8 weeks pregnant.
> 
> When I say I can't do more, I mean that entirely literally. I already don't have enough time for myself. It is impossible for me to turn every story into a 'verse, and I do receive requests on virtually every story. While I understand objectively that this is meant as a kindness, with the volume of such comments I've received it's come to feel like a demand, and an unappreciative one at that.
> 
> So consider this my universal request: _please_ stop asking me to continue stories in your comments.
> 
> If you really want me to follow up on a specific 'verse, please save your request for when I next put out a [Call for Prompts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11408007). Until then...just stop. I can't deal with it. I will stop writing shorts if people keep doing this, because it's causing me so much stress. Seriously I'm starting to dread the flood of "omg write more!" that I get every time, to the point that it's making me not want to write. Since I know that's no one's goal with those kinds of comments...
> 
> ...yeah, just don't. I honestly don't know a single author who appreciates these kinds of comments. We talk about it a lot on Tumblr but I realize a lot of you aren't on Tumblr so consider this me spreading the word: this kind of comment really comes off as pressuring and inconsiderate to authors.
> 
> I will be cross posting this author's note over my next few stories, to spread the word. Thanks for your time and consideration, guys.
> 
> (and if you leave this kind of comment going forward I will direct you to read the author's note and otherwise not reply.)


End file.
